Nothing Left
by littleoblivion
Summary: To the outside world, Jennifer Jareau is perfection. Smart, beautiful, strong, and in control. However, behind closed doors she is doing everything she can not to fall apart. Trigger warning: eating disorder, anorexia. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**(Alright! Here's a new story I'm working on. Trigger warnings include eating disorders, anorexia. I hope you enjoy! Please leave me some feedback and let me know what you love and don't like. Jordo.)**

" _Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away." Antoine de Saint-Exupéry_

The alarm jolts me awake. I force my eyes open and blearily peer at the red digits. 6:00 am. Time to begin another day.

I push back the sheets and revel in the cool air from the ceiling fan on my sweaty body. Virginia is in the middle of an impressive heatwave, much to everyone's chagrin. With days hitting the triple digit and nights barely bringing relief, there's not much to do for comfort without using your life savings to run the AC around the clock. The thin tank top and sleep shorts I wore to bed stick unpleasantly to my skin as I pull myself into a sitting position and swing my feet to the floor. I pause for a moment, stifling a yawn and trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. Then I stand on my already weary feet, forcing myself to start the day.

I somehow make it through a shower, make up, and doing my hair without crawling back into bed. I grab my coffee from where it has brewed at the Keurig and catch a glimpse of the time. 7:30 am. _Shit._ I need to be heading out the door right now, and I'm not dressed and I still haven't had breakfast.

I ransack my closet, suddenly aware that I haven't done laundry in apparently months. My go to choices for work wear are balled up on the floor of my closet or in the bottom of my hamper. I finally find an old pair of pants from when I was brand new to the bureau. I pull them on and hastily work on the buttons on the blouse I secured from between two sweaters. I go to button the pants and fail. _Could this morning get any worse?_ I suck in my stomach, trying in vain to fasten the button. I even lay down on the bed, thinking that somehow if I was horizontal the pants would begin to cooperate. I give up, peeling them off. Trying to push down my frustration, I pull a pencil skirt out of my hamper.

I stick my feet into a pair of flats lying by the front door, grab my keys, and run for the SUV. I'm going to be late and I hate it. Being late always makes me frazzled and sets the tone for my whole day. I sigh heavily as I sit stopped at an intersection. It is then that my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that breakfast had been sacrificed in the war between me and my pants.

I find myself confused as to why they didn't fit. Yes, I wasn't quite the 'corn fed size 0' that Spence had professed me to be, but had I really gained that much weight? For the rest of my commute across town, I find myself trying to recall the last time I had even weighed myself. I know that I had been weighed as part of my physical for gaining FBI entry. The Bureau was very strict about prospectives not being under or over weight. I had been probably 120? It's true that I hadn't been going to the gym as much lately but I honestly couldn't find the time. Between the long hours in the office and jetting across the country for days at a time with no warning, I couldn't exactly take a spin class. And when I did have a rare day off, I was exhausted. I just wanted to sit on the couch and watch Netflix, trying desperately not to think of the horrors that waited on my desk in the BAU.

I shook myself from my thoughts as I walked across the bullpen. I'm about ten minutes late, and everyone is already at their desks, buried in their work. I return a few smiles and squeeze Spence's shoulder as I walk past. Letting myself into my office, I sit down my stuff and begin to sort through the emails and phone calls. All the desperate pleas for help from across the country, needing assistance in protecting their communities from the worst of men.

A light knock on the door pulls my eyes from my computer screen. Emily is poking her head in.

"Hey you. Morgan and I are gonna go downstairs and grab some lunch. Wanna join?"

"Isn't it a little early for lunch?"

Her mouth pulls into a smirk. "Jayje, it's 12:30. C'mon, you obviously need a break."

I can't help but laugh. "Wow, I thought it was like 10."

"Well, you know what they say, time flies when you're having fun." Her tone is light but I can't help but grimace. Nothing about how I spent this morning seems fun. I grab my wallet from my purse and join her.

We are talking about her latest attempt at dating when we meet Morgan at the elevator.

"He actually pulled the "show me your weapon and I'll show you mine' line? That's disgusting!" My nose wrinkles as I laugh at her misfortune.

"Prentiss where do you even find these men?" Morgan questions as we descend in the elevator.

"I don't know! Normal places! Like the grocery store or my coffee place."

"You met 'weapons unholstered' guy at Starbucks?"

"Uhm.. no. We, well I had gone, it's um…"

"What?" Morgan and I ask in unison.

"I found him through OK Cupid, okay?" At this point, we can't contain our laughter. "Nothing in his profile suggested that he would be so skeezy!"

"Y'know Prentiss, for a profiler, you are an awful bad judge of character when it comes to dates." Morgan teased.

Emily groaned. "Don't I know it. Maybe I should just give up. Get Sergio a nice cat friend and accept my fate."

Still laughing at her devastatingly bad date, we split up to look for lunch in the Bureau cafeteria. Without the distraction of my coworkers, I can now feel the persistent rumbling of my stomach. I grab a coke from the refrigerated display as well as a bag of cheetos and a roast beef sandwich. While waiting in line to pay I see a package of Reese's peanut butter cups, my favorites. I add them to my stack. When I get to the register I sit down my finds and begin to dig for my debit card in my wallet. The tiny elderly woman behind the counter clucks her tongue as she scans in my food.

"My, my! Eating for two, are we?" I stare blankly at her, unsure of what she is talking about.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh dear, you don't have to act so shy. You've already got a cute little belly!" And with that she places her hand against my stomach, rubbing affectionately.

My face flushes as mortification makes blood pound in my ears at the realization of what she's implying. "Oh! I'm not- no! Definitely- I'm not." I stammer.

She nods good naturedly as she swipes my card and hands me my tray of food. "Don't worry, this will just stay between us." I try to think of a way to reassure this woman- this stranger- that I am not pregnant but her eyes have already slid from me to the next person in line. I walk to the table secured by Emily and Morgan, still in shock.

"JJ? You alright?"

"I… the woman who checked me out thought I was pregnant." My friends are silent for a moment, then bust out laughing.

"You? Does she know what pregnancy looks like?" Morgan practically cackles.

"What a bitch! Do you want me to fight her for you?" Emily throws in.

"I think I can take all 70 pounds that little old Carol has to offer, thanks Em."

"Well, I just had to offer, y'know with you in such a delicate condition." She pokes her tongue out at me and I throw a cheeto at her.

"But seriously, Jayje, that's ridiculous. Do not listen to her, you are tiny!" she continues.

"I mean you're not in as good shape as me, but don't let it get you down." Morgan tilted back in his chair. "Hey I'll train you if you want?"

"Uhm, she doesn't have a death wish." came Emily's retort.

"For your information, Emily Prentiss, I am an outstanding trainer."

"Yeah right, you left Spencer and Garcia scarred. They've never been the same!"

I listen to my friend s banter back and forth, throwing in a comment where needed. First my pants not fitting, now this woman all but accusing me of having a baby bump… I surveyed my lunch time choices. It suddenly seemed silly, no, ludicrous, for an FBI agent in one of the most elite units to be eating such empty, easy foods. After all, you are what you eat. And I want to be the best.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Hey guys! I have today and tomorrow off and I'm stuck at home waiting for furniture to be delivered to my apartment, so I'm hoping to really bust out some chapters! Is this me avoiding my school responsibilities like reading my textbook or working on the monologue I have to perform the first day of class? Most definitely. So enjoy the byproduct of my procrastination and please, please review. Just let me know that you're out there and interested.**

 **Also, I forgot to mention last chapter that this fic doesn't include the Henry storyline. Will may be mentioned as an ex boyfriend but AJ was never pregnant. Also I don't own Criminal Minds. If I did, i wouldn't be tucked away in this tiny Brooklyn apartment. Review!)**

" _The Man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones." Confucius_

After lunch, the rest of the day passes quickly. I have lots of paperwork to do, and I have to stay on top of it or it will bury me. I'm filling out my third case eval when I glance at the time. 6:30 pm. Have I really been sitting here for five hours? I save my progress and turn off my computer. Straightening the files on my desk, I grab my bag and turn to find Hotch standing in my doorway.

"Heading home?" I ask.

"Yeah. I figure if I leave now Jack and I can squeeze in some Mario Kart before dinner.

I can't help but laugh. "You play Mario Kart?" He gives a small grin. "Well are you any good?"

"Well, not as good as my son unfortunately, but I'll get there." He gives a small wave. "Goodnight JJ."

"Night Hotch."

I fasten my bag and make my way to the elevator. As I wait, I examine my reflection in the blurry metal door. _I guess I really have been lax on my diet and getting enough exercise._ I turn slightly to the side and peer at my stomach. It isn't as flat as I remember it being. I pull my bag more securely on to my shoulder and turn away from the elevator. Instead, I walk decidedly to the stairwell just around the corner. I quickly take the four flights of stairs down.

When I finally reach my apartment, my stomach is once again rumbling. I change out of my work clothes into a pair of running shorts and a tank top. Back in the kitchen I reach for the Chinese take out menu out of habit. Then my brain catches up to my hands and I remember that I'm supposed to be eating better, especially if I want to weigh what I used. _Speaking of, where is my scale?_

I pad around my house in my bare feet, searching for the missing object. I finally find it, along with what is surely an unsafe amount of dust bunnies, in the laundry room closet. I set it on the wood floor and step on. The analog dial spins back and forth, and I realize I'm holding my breath. When it finally settles, I let out a shocked gasp. _137 pounds?_ I had never weighed anywhere in the 130 region before, let alone almost 140. Growing up, I had been an active kid, playing softball and soccer, taking gymnastics lessons, spending long summer days at the pool. Even in high school and college, soccer practice and conditioning workouts had kept me trim, even when my diet had faltered more towards the junk food variety. I step off of the scale and pick it up, depositing it into the cabinet beneath my bathroom sink.

Returning to the kitchen, I find myself sifting through the meager food in my pantry and fridge. Everything is either no longer good or over processed crap. I throw out a half gallon of sour milk and a couple of apples that had long been mushy. Groaning in frustration, I grab my keys and purse, realizing that a trip to the grocery store is unfortunately necessary.

The blast of musty AC makes my eyes water upon entering the supermarket, but the cool air is a welcome change to the oven once called Quantico, VA. I grab my cart and begin making my way down the aisles. I concentrate on finding foods that have some semblance of nutrition, rather than the cheetos and ramen noodles that my eyes constantly stray to. One by one, apples, oranges, lettuce, and celery are placed in the metal basket. I grab cans of tuna, frozen chicken breasts, skim milk, cheese, and a carton of eggs. Crackers, tortillas, and sliced turkey soon join. I feel accomplished with my purchases and head to the checkout. As I wait, I can't help but let my eyes linger on the trashy gossip rags on the rack. I would never admit it out loud, but I had always loved them. I loved the melodramatic stories and pictures of celebrities. It was great mindless entertainment after a long day filled with horrifying images. I grab a US Weekly and throw it in the cart, cringing as I imagine the grief I would catch from Morgan if he were to ever find out.

Once at home I put away the groceries, feeling proud of myself. This feeling deflates however, once I realize that I'm still starving and am now faced with the task of cooking something from said groceries. I've never been exactly gifted in the kitchen. I open a can of tuna and stir it with a fork. The fish doesn't smell unappetizing but I stare at it with lackluster. I finally open the box of saltines and spread a layer of mayo before adding on a spoonful of tuna. I gingerly take a small bite. _Not bad!_ It's obviously not as satisfying as the sesame chicken and egg roll from Dragon House I would have had any other night, but not disgusting. I make more little sandwiches until I run out of tuna. I'm still hungry though so I cut up an apple into slices and munch on them while I flip through the glossy pages of my magazine. Seeing the bikini clad stars only reaffirms my thinking. _If these women are willing to work and sacrifice to be seen as beautiful and fit, then I have no excuse. My job is to protect and I can't do that if I'm not performing at top level._ I rinse off my dishes and load them into the dishwasher. Then I trade my flip flops for tennis shoes and grab my headphones, and head out for a run.

The day is still hot, but it feels undeniably nice as I bend to touch my toes, stretching out my hamstrings. I twist side to side as I select a playlist, then take off. I had always been a good runner. The long strides come easily to me and I quickly settle into a rhythm. I jog down the sidewalk and around the corner, towards my local park. As I run past the trees and benches, I can all but feel the endorphins being released. The wind on my face feels good and I push further. Around and around the park I run, letting my mind go numb. It's almost dark when I decide to to head back to my apartment, letting my pace slow to a walk. I hold my arms above my head as I catch my breath. There's a stitch in my side, sharp yet familiar. I let myself back into my apartment thoroughly tired out. As I toe off my sneakers I consider plopping down to watch some television, but decide instead to take a cool shower and crawl into bed. I can barely keep my eyes open when my head hits the pillow even though it's just after 11. My mind wanders back to the too tight pants and Carol the cafeteria lady. My face once again reddens at her assumption but I push it aside as I turn to lay on my stomach. Today is another day.


	3. Chapter 3

**(I hope you are all enjoying the story so far! I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit slow these first couple of chapters, I'm just trying to establish s firm beginning. I would love some feedback on what you think of the fic so far! Jordo.)**

" _There is no luck except where there is discipline." Irish Proverb_

Even though I went to bed fairly early, I'm still not too happy about my alarm clock's cheerful chirp. As I swing my legs to the floor I feel a small twinge of soreness in my legs. It makes me smile as I flex and point my feet, reveling in the sensation.

As I walk into the bathroom I remember the scale hidden in the cabinet between the cotton balls and half filled lotion majority of my being knows that weighing myself would be pointless. It's only been 11 hours since my initial weigh in. But there's a small part, barely audible, that is curious. I grab the scale and place it on the ground and step on the scale. The dial spins back and forth. _136 pounds._ My heart flutters and my skin feels tingly. With just some healthy food choices and exercise, I had lost a pound! I nudge the scale with my foot so that it rests in the crevice between the sink and the bathtub. I pull my hair up and start applying moisturizer. _I knew I could do this. It's just a matter of control._

Since I showered last night, I have plenty of time to get ready this morning. After finishing my makeup and straightening my hair, I turn on my Keurig and start a cup of coffee. My stomach grumbles so I grab the eggs from the fridge. I put a pan of water on the stove and google how long to boil eggs. I doctor my coffee with creamer and sugar. I take a sip, savoring it. My morning coffee is one of my favorite things. The water begins to bubble and I place three eggs in the pot. I set the timer and try to find clothes in the hamper that are clean enough. I find black pants tucked in a pocket of my go bag and pull them on. I grab a red tank top and pull it over my head. I know that I have a blazer in the office that I can throw on.

I hear the timer begin to ring in the kitchen and I hurry to turn off the burner. I pour out the water and rinse the eggs with cold water. I tap them against the counter and peel off the shells. I pull a plate from the cabinet and set the eggs it. I cut them in half and add salt and pepper. I take a bite of one and relish then tangy yolk. I quickly polish off the rest of them. As I'm rinsing off my plate I notice that I'm still hungry. Normally I would grab something else, no questions asked. Well, normally breakfast would have been a bowl of sugary cereal or a couple of donuts snagged from the break room. _I;m probably not even hungry, I'm thirsty._ I steal myself against grabbing more breakfast and simply rinsed my dishes instead. I grab a water bottle and fill it at the sink.

At work, I find my inbox overflowing with requests from precincts from across the nation. I sigh, my high spirits from this morning quickly falling away. When I open the email, I know. Right away, from the attached photos of the crime scenes, the established pattern of victims, the accelerating time line… They need us. I stand from my desk and go about assembling the team. We have a new case and it is going to be a tough one.

That evening finds us in Blythe, it was hot in Virginia, then Blythe is an actual hell. As we step off the plane we are told that it's 108 degrees. My skin feels as if it's going to physically burn off and I'm thankful that I decided on the tank top.

"What is this weather, man? This has got to be the hottest place on Earth." grumbles Morgan.

"Blythe actually is one of the hottest towns in the continental US. Until recently, it had a record high of 122 degrees reached twice; once in 1920 and 1929. However, earlier this summer the record was smashed when temperatures reached 124 degrees." Reid quips.

"How do you- no, you know what, I don't care. It's too hot for questions." Emily is squinting into the sun as she attempts to locate her sunglasses in her bag.

"Guys I know it's hot, but we do have a case." We all follow Hotch into the tiny police department., thankful to be out of the sun.

We spend all afternoon and most of the evening poring over all of the evidence gathered by the local police force. Morgan and Emily were sent out to take a look at the most recent crime. Spence, Rossi, and Hotch went to canvas the town and visit the bodies in the coroner's office. This left me to talk with the families, find out what they know.

It's close to eight when everyone finally trickles in. I can tell from everyone's weary, sweaty faces that their days were about as productive as mine.

"What do you guys want to order for dinner? I'm starving" Morgan asks.

"You're always starving." Spence mumbles under his breath.

"What was that, pretty boy?"

"What? Nothing!"

"Pizza?" asks Emily.

"That sounds good. The usual?" Everyone nods. We all head up our rooms to drop off our bags. I'm sharing with Em as usual. We claim beds and I soak a washcloth in cold water and rest it on the back of my neck. Our rickety AC is working hard to cool the room but it's efforts were barely noticeable.

We make our way back downstairs to the conference room to find the pizza has been delivered. I can smell the garlicy goodness coming from the boxes and realize that in the commotion of getting everyone briefed and on the plane, I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast. I am instantaneously ravenous. I grab a paper plate and begin to load it down with slice of pizza. The cheese and pepperoni smell delectable and my mouth begins to water. I don't even make it to my seat before taking a giant bite of the first slice, burning my tongue. A small moan escapes me.

"You okay over there, Jayje?" Emily asks.

"Be sure to save some pizza for the rest of us!" jokes Rossi the other side of the table. I feel my cheeks getting hot as I take in the massive amount of food on my plate. It's definitely too much for one person. _And you're watching what you eat, remember? Greasy pizza isn't exactly helping the cause._

"Sorry everyone, I'm uh, eating with my eyes today I guess." I take a smaller bite of the piece I had started. I have the strangest feeling of shame begin to soak through my abdomen, stronger than the contracting of my stomach. I keep taking small bites of the same slice as we once again go over every detail of the case. I find it a little hard to focus on the unsub's motivations though, as my mind is consumed with thoughts of the food on my plate. I really don't think one piece will be enough to fill me up but do I really need a second? It's not like I was out in the field today, I was sitting behind a desk consoling families.

I have almost convinced myself that the second piece is perfectly reasonable when everyone stands and I realize that we're heading up to our rooms. Since I don't want to be left down here alone, I choose to throw away my plate and extra pieces. I follow Em towards our room, decidedly ignoring the unsatisfied hunger within.

 **(Please review!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**(Hey guys. Here is the next chapter of Nothing Left. It's a little bit darker than the previous chapters, so be forewarned. hope you enjoy. Please fave, follow and review. Jordo.)**

" _All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." Anatole France_

It's almost a week before we catch the unsub. A week of finding women, bloody, broken, and tossed aside like garbage. The relief and satisfaction of catching this son of a bitch and putting him beyond bars is tempered by the nagging feeling that we could have saved more. Women died because we weren't good enough at our jobs.

Walking back into my apartment, I just want to crawl underneath the covers and sleep for days. My head hurts with lack of sleep and suppressed tears. I'm disappointed in myself. This wasn't any other career. My shortcomings cost people their lives. I had failed the women of Blythe, CA. I know if I were to voice any of these thoughts to my team they would be quick to rationalize that we're doing the best we can against the sick minds lurking in the shadows. But they don't understand. I'm not like them. I'm not completely in control of myself and the situation like Hotch. I don't have Rossi's natural instincts in the field. I don't have Morgan's athleticism and force, nor Emily's polylinguistic skills and beauty. Of course, my brains are nothing compared to Reid's eidetic mind or Penelope's technological savvy. I'm doing everything I can with my average at best self and it's not enough.

I decide to to take off my makeup and take a nice shower before heading to bed early. As I enter the bathroom, I notice my scale beside the sink. I did the best I could to eat healthily while we were on the case, but all too often the only sustenance choices were coffee, take out, vending machines, and more coffee. I toe off my shoes and pull the scale into the middle of the small room. I take a deep breath and step on the scale.

 _137 pounds._

How is that possible? Somehow, I'm back to where I started, even though I tried to eat better. I step off the scale and angrily push it back into it's alcove beside the sink. I stare at my face in the mirror. I can see the tears of frustration collecting in my eyes. I bitterly wipe them away as they spill forth. Tears wouldn't solve anything. They wouldn't bring back those women. They wouldn't spare those families any pain. And for that matter, they wouldn't change my weight.

I roughly pull my hair into a bun on the top of my head and hunt down my running shoes. I jam my headphones into my ears. As I hurry down the steps, I almost run headfirst into my neighbor, Mrs. Santiago.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Oh you're fine! Headed for to run? You just got home!" The tiny seventy year old woman doesn't stand even five feet tall, her curly gray hair held away from her face with a scarf.

"Yeah, um… y'know. Got to stay in shape!" I awkwardly answer. Mrs. Santiago is sweet but right now I'm too keyed up to have in depth conversation with her about my work life. She shakes her head at me and clucks her tongue.

"You silly young girls! SO obsessed with being skinny like the magazines. _Mira,_ I would love to have curves like you again! I'm old and bony. You keep your curves! Don't be like those skinny little actresses on the TV." She gives a smile and disappears into her own apartment. I am left standing on sidewalk, feeling as if I can't breath. Somewhere in my mind, I know that Mrs. Santiago said all of this in a kind manner but mainly I feel like I could vomit. I shakily inhale, and begin to run.

My feet pound the concrete. There is no enjoyment in it tonight. I don't notice the beautiful quirks of the park. I don't care about the breeze that gently sways the leaves above my head. I run to escape the reaches of pale, limp hands that sought rescue that I hadn't been able to deliver. My body finds the path through the park on autopilot, my lungs gasping for air as I push harder and faster.

Tears blur my vision for a moment and my foot catches a crack in the sidewalk, sending me sprawling. My hands sting as they come into contact with the rough concrete, but I feel the main impact of the fall in my left knee. I gasp in pain and roll onto my butt. I massage my knee through the material of my sweats. The skin's not broken, but I can tell by the instant tenderness and swelling that it will have a nasty bruise. I gingerly get back to my feet and begin the trek back home. Now that I'm not running, the sweat on my body cools in the breeze and I shiver all the way back to my apartment. Once inside I turn out the lights and crawl into bed, not even bothering to take off my shoes.

Hotch has given us the next day off, and I sleep well into the morning. It's almost noon when I finally squint into the sunlight coming through my windows. I feel gross, the residue of plane travel, running, and falling to the ground still on my body. As I walk to the bathroom, I feel a deep ache in my knee and it makes me wince. As I disrobe to step into the shower, I tenderly prod at the bruise on my knee, grimacing at the shade of deep blue. I decide to weigh myself again before I shower, just to see.

 _136.6 pounds._ It's better, but it's still not what I want to see.

After my shower, I fix myself three boiled eggs for breakfast. I turn on the news while I wait for the water to boil. The anchors discuss the renovation of a historical building, and the weatherman brings news of fall temperatures on the horizon. I flip through the channels as I eat, taking time to eat small bites with large gulps of coffee in between. I read online that this would help me feel fuller.

After loading the dishes into the dishwasher and starting it, I pace around my apartment. Days off are rare, but I don't know what tp do with mine. I think about calling Emily or Pen to see if they want to meet up, but decide they probably already have plans. It's times like this I wish I had a boyfriend. Yes, I was an independent woman you did not need a man to be happy, but it didn't mean I wouldn't like to have one occasionally. I hadn't really dated anyone since Will, the charming detective from New Orleans. I had liked him a lot, but in the end the distance and the job were just to much. It had been five months since we had last seen each other. Five months since I had been kissed, five months since I had… well. It had been a long and rather lonely five months.

I finally settled on gathering up all of my laundry and hauling it to the rec room by the pool. Everyone in my complex was busy spending time with loved ones or soaking up the last tendrils of summer, several washers should be free.

I lucked out and essentially had the entire room to myself. I filtered all of my clothes into the four washers and sat down in front of the TV. I once again flipped through the channels before settling on reruns of a show from the nineties. I watched with little interest as the characters went about their lives to the audience laugh tracks, my eyes eventually inching closed.

I'm startled awake by the timer on the washer. I groggily stand and stretch, yawning as I do. I move my clothes from the washers to the dryers. Through the small window I can see the apartment complex's pool. Some frat guys are playing water volleyball and a couple moms play with their children near the shallow end steps. My eyes however, are captivated by the girls lounging next to the pool. They're young and pretty, no doubt coeds at the local university. Their face are mainly obstructed by large sunglasses and their skin is oily with sun tan lotion. They are so thin, looking minuscule even in the most unforgiving of bikinis. I can remember looking like them. It seems like it was just a few moments ago. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles and I decidedly ignore it. I woke up late. My breakfast can serve as my lunch as well. I'm fine.

That evening, with my clothe folded, hung, and put away, I find myself back in my kitchen. I take a tortilla from the pantry and cover it with lettuce, then add some sliced turkey and cheese. I reach for the mayo but the thought of toned abs and thighs in swimming suits deters me. Instead, I find some spicy mustard on a bottom shelf. I squeeze some on and roll up my wrap. I take a bite. It's not what I really want but I can't get the body I want if I keep eating garbage. When I finish the wrap, I don't feel full. I chug a glassful of water, hoping it helps. I unload the dishwasher, placing all the plates in their rightful cabinets then wipe the counter.

I find myself in my living room, staring blankly at the TV. It's only eight, I can't possibly go to sleep. I think about going for another run, but a glance at my knee tells me that it's not a great idea. Instead, I move to the floor, laying on my back with my feet bent and my arms clasped behind my head. At the height of my soccer career, I could do 100 full sit ups in a minute half without breaking a sweat. As I lift my abdomen towards my legs, I realize just how out of shape I am. I push through and do 150, sweat slithering down my spine. Then I flip over and do pushups until my arms quiver. My energy spent, I move my body back up to the couch. I find an old Julia Roberts' movie on TV and wrap my arms around a throw pillow; all at once I find myself feeling massive but small and all alone.

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	5. Chapter 5

**(Hey everybody! Here's the next chapter. I don't feel like this chapter is some of my best writing; I know where I want the story to go, I'm just having some problems connecting it without rushing the timeline. Anywho I would LOVE some feedback on what you think of the story so far. Also, I recently wrote a CM fanfic entitled 'Something Desired.' It's a JJ/Hotch story, and very smutty, so if that's your thing, check it out!**

 **Fave, follow, review. Jordo.)**

Every morning, the number on the scale taunts me. It moves back and forth, even flirting with 138 pounds the morning after I decide to give myself a night off and have dinner and drinks with Em and Penelope. It was that morning, staring with horror at the number that had somehow inched upwards that I realize that if I'm going to do this, I've got to commit. The only way I would be able to control my weight is if I controlled every single thing that I put in my body. And so that's what I was doing. The week and a half since had been stringent.

Last night had been particularly rough. It had been a long day full of paperwork and whenever I finally arrived home I wanted nothing more than to order a pizza. But I didn't. I was strong. I toasted two pieces of bread and sprayed them with zero calorie butter substitute. Then I emptied a can of light soup into a bowl and popped it into the microwave. I ate at the table, taking tiny nibbles of bread and large sip of water between each spoonful of soup. I consumed it slowly, letting this trick my stomach into thinking I was eating more than I was. I had found some online forums dedicated to weightloss, where I had found lots of helpful tips. Several women swore by using a calorie tracker, so I had downloaded an app and used it to log every morsel of food I consumed. I added my soup and toast to the tracker, 300 _calories._ In combination with the three hard-boiled eggs, banana, and coffee with creamer I had prepared for breakfast _(375 calories)_ , and the fast food grilled chicken sandwich I had purchased for lunch _(530 calories),_ and I was coming in just five calories over my goal of 1200.

The problem was, when I finished I was still hungry. Or at least that's what my body was saying. The forums had all agreed that starting a diet was hardest in the beginning because your body has to relearn how to eat. So I chugged another glass of water and put on my tennis shoes. The bruise on my knee still looked particularly nasty, but it no longer hurt so I was back to running in the park when I could. So after finishing dinner I had ran two miles _(-200 calories)_ then finished up with sit ups and push ups on my living room floor _(-50 calories)._ I had tried to watch TV on the couch but found myself being tempted by the food that I knew lurked in the fridge just a few short feet away, so I finally just went to bed.

This morning I would see what my hard worked had produced. Had I done enough? Had I eaten too much? Only the scale would tell. I stepped on and held my breath.

 _130 pounds._ I let out my breath in a relieved sigh. 130! Finally I was making some progress. Just a couple of more weeks and I would reach 120. 120 pounds was the goal I had set for myself. Once I was 120 I could be back in shape and in a good place to just maintain. Not that I could ever go back to the way I had been eating. No. I am an FBI agent, I need to hold myself to a higher standard. At 120 I will be in control and at the top of my game. I flip on some music while I go about preparing my breakfast, excited about this recent goal reached. Part of me, giddy with the thought, wants to celebrate this. _Maybe I could stop and get a latte before work…_ But I know now that it is a slippery slope. If I stop at Starbucks, what will prevent me from also ordering a bagel with cream cheese? No, I cannot give myself an option to fail. I am strong now.

I walk into the BAU with an extra spring in my step. It's almost as if the weight I had lost fell from my soul; I feel lighthearted. My uplifted attitude draws attention from my coworkers.

"Well good morning, sunshine!" Morgan calls from his desk.

"What's got you in such a great mood this morning?" Emily, never the morning person, seems almost offended by my cheerfulness.

"Nothing." I smile. "It's just a good day."

"Puh lease. You've been all kinds of grumpy the past few weeks. What changed? Do you have a new boo?" Morgan raised his eyebrows at me.

"Gross. Women can be happy without it being a sex thing. Not everything is a sex thing." Emily playfully tossed a pencil at him.

"I didn't say it was!"

"Actually, scientists have found that people are 44% more likely to report being happy if they are currently engaging in sexual intercourse once a week. The number goes up to 55% percent if intercourse is sought every couple of days." All of our eyes swing to look at Spencer, who is still flipping through the case file in his hand. He finally notices our silence and looks up at us, pushing up his glasses. "What?"

"How do you even know that?"

"I read it. In a book."

I exchange a smirk with Emily. "What kind of books have you been reading, Spence?"

The genius's mouth fell open, seemingly lost for words, when we are interrupted by Hotch.

"Everyone to the conference room. Something's happened"

The next 36 hours are spent in the nation's capitol. A team of unsubs was targeting young women on the streets. It's a fast, frantic search from beginning to end with little sleep or relief. When the black SUVs pull into the BAU, I'm not sure how we are even standing upright. We all shuffle in, go bags slung over our shoulders. Hotch tells us that the paperwork can wait, and to head home. We all agree appreciatively and gather our things. Emily suggests we grab some dinner and we agree to meet up at a diner nearby.

I'm almost there when it hits me: this is the first time I've eaten with the team in this sort of setting since intensifying my diet. No one notices your eating habits when you're in the field on a case. I'm about to go to dinner with a team of trained profilers, and pray to God I can make it through without anyone realizing the recent change. As I pull into the diner parking lot, I contemplate just going home. I could send them a text, say I'm not feeling well, and retreat to my apartment where I won't have to eat in front of others. It's tempting. I have my phone out to do just this when I remember Morgan's comment about me being grumpy over the past few weeks. I had been, of course. I was frustrated with my weight and with feeling inadequate compared t the rest of the team and the demands of this job.

I had to go to this dinner. I had to go and pretend like everything was okay. I would have to find a way to stick to my diet, while convincing the people I was closest to that everything was just fine.

 **(Intense stuff coming. Fave, follow, review!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**(Hey guys. It's Jordon, back at it. Sorry about the delay. I finally started acting school and life got super busy, but here is chapter six. Also, I've added another chapter to Something Desired and it's pretty smutty. So if that's your jam, check it out! I'm also thinking about starting another story, this one centered around JJ and Emily, partially inspired by the explosion that occurred last night in Manhattan. I was a t work just a few blocks away, so the entire situation is very fresh and surreal. Please keep NYC in your thoughts. Also, to answer a question I received, this timeline is after the Will romance, ignoring the subsequent pregnancy plotline. Sorry I didn't state that earlier. Any who, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it, please review!)**

 _"Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained." William Blake_

When I step into the diner, everyone is already seated at a table in the back. As I lower my exhausted body into a chair, the waitress sets a basket of fresh bread on the table. The smell is tantalizing. I watch as my teammates all hungrily tear into it, ripping off large chunks with their hands. I ask the waitress for water and stick my nose in my menu. I can't have the bread. Not even one bite. Because if I have a single bite of bread, I'll have just a bite more, and then I will lose what little control I have gained over the past few weeks. I turn the pages of the menu, scouring for something safe to eat.

"Jayje, did you get some bread?" Emily attempts to pass the basket to me. I force a smile in return.

"I'm not really in the mood for bread, thanks though!" I assure her. She shrugs her shoulders and instead hands it to Reid, who helps himself. I can't help but watch with envy as he sinks his teeth into it, closing his eyes to savor it. _It's not fair. Spence can eat anything he wants and stay rail thin. Why can't I be like him?_ I realize I've been staring at him and focus my energy on my menu once more.

All of the possibilities tempt me. Bacon cheeseburgers call to me, heaping bowls of chicken fettuccine alfredo invite me in. I find the section listing the salads and wraps and debate between the chicken Caesar and the Chef's salad with turkey. Finally I decide the chef's salad is the safest, with balsamic vinegarette on the side and no bacon bits. The waitress comes back to get our order and I'm the last to give her my order. We all make small talk about the little we have going on outside of work and laugh as Rossi treats us to a story about one of his ex wives. When our food is delivered I can't help both the sharp pangs of hunger and jealousy I feel as I see everyone else's food. Across from me, I can see Rossi ordered the bacon cheese burger I had been salivating over and I watch him bite into it with longing.

"Would you like a bite, JJ?" I flick my eyes up at him in surprise. I can feel everyone turning their attention away from their meals to instead focus on us. My mind goes blank as I feel the rush of embarrassment from being caught.

"Oh no, I- Sorry." I try to laugh it off. "Must have spaced out."

"And no wonder! With that measly little salad? That's not real food- you feed that to real food!"

"Y'know, it wouldn't hurt you to eat a few more vegetables Dave. Especially if you want to live long enough to find wife number four." Hotch quietly quips from the other side of the table. Our whole table begins to 'ooh' like teenagers and Morgan playfully butts his shoulder into Rossi's,

Rossi lifts his hands defensively. "Life is too short to live without bacon." I laugh with the rest of them, but am silently thanking the stars that Hotch unknowingly deflected Rossi's comments for me. I spear some of the lettuce and spinach onto my fork and dip it ever so slightly into the dressing before popping it into my mouth. I chew it thoroughly before washing it down with several large gulps of water. I repeat this, over and over,timing it so that my plate empties with everyone else's. The waitress refills my water glass and I drain it, trying to convince myself that I am full as my colleagues groan about how stuffed they feel. We pay our checks and file out into the parking lot. Hotch immediately climbs into his car, not wanting to spend any more time away from Jack. Rossi and Read are quick to follow.

Morgan helps Garcia into his car and Emily and I wave as they too pull out. I stretch my arms over my head as we walk to our cars.

"Man my body feels dead. I'm going to sleep like a log."

"Me too," she agrees before pausing a moment. "Hey are you okay?"

I consciously keep my face neutral. "Yeah of course! Why do you ask?"

She shrugs and I can tell she is also deliberately masking her voice in a warm, friendly tone. "No reason in particular."

For some reason this grates on my nerve. "Nope! I'm good!" I'm working so hard at making my voice cheerful that it almost comes out sarcastic.

Emily sighs and turns to face me. "I don't mean to pry. And I know we promise to not profile each other, but I can't help it. You've just seemed a little off lately, tired, down. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

I can see the genuine care and concern on her face and my anger abates. This is Emily, my best friend in the entire world. She cares about me and wants the best for me. I rest my hand on her shoulder and lie through my teeth.

"I'm sorry. I guess I have been a little out of it lately. I'm just tired… And I guess a little lonely."

She gives me a crooked grin. "Well you know you are always invited for a movie night with me and Sergio."

I laugh. "Thanks, but not that kind of lonely…" I trail off.

"Oh." Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Well, I mean, I get that. Who has time to date with our schedules?"

"Morgan I guess. And Rossi. He has to find those ex wives somehow!" I joke.

"That's true," she chuckles. "Whatever happened with what's his name, the hot detective from Louisiana?"

I distract myself with digging through my purse for my keys. "Will? Oh, same old as always. Too much work, not enough play, the distance." I rattle off. "But seriously, I'm fine. I just need a good nights sleep."

"Or maybe a good night of not sleeping." she smirked.

I rolled my eyes and hugged her goodnight, agreeing that we would grab lunch some time later this week.

The next morning I oversleep. As I hurry through getting ready, I scramble into the kitchen, opening the fridge to find that I am out of eggs. _Shit. I was supposed to go to the grocery store, but then we got called out on that case._ I drum my fingers anxiously against the fridge door. Finally I decide that this morning will just be coffee and an apple. The calorie counter app on my phone tells me that that's only 120 calories, but I figure that every calorie cut helps, and it would just help me meet my goal sooner. I dash out the door, telling myself that soon I will reach 120 pounds, and then my life can find some sense of normalcy again.

 **(Review!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**(Hey guys! Can I just start by saying that I should be doing lots of things. I should be reading a book for my Acting Technique's class. I should be working on my sonnet and monologue for my Shakespeare class. I should be watching a film for my Actor's movement class. Hell, I should be putting away my laundry. HOWEVER, instead of doing any of that, I wrote this chapter and watched more Criminal Minds. So please do me a favor and help me justify that decision by taking a few seconds to leave a review. Lots of love. Jordo.)**

" _The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one." Margaret Atwood_

"JJ… you look awful." I look up from the folder on my desk to see Derek and Emily standing in my doorway. Three weeks have passed since the night at the diner. Three weeks and ten pounds. The scale this morning had read 120. Pleasure had rushed through my veins but it was quickly eclipsed by exhaustion. Pure exhaustion that I could feel in every muscle, every tendon. Looking into the mirror, I could see dark bags under my eyes. But worse than that was what else I could see in the mirror. 120 was my goal weight, it was supposed to be my ending point. But looking at my body in the mirror I could only see failure. My pale cheeks were chubby, my waist was thick with fat spilling over the waistband of my shorts. Stepping back to see my lower half, I cringe at the sight of my thighs pressed against each other, huge and immobile. Even my ankles seemed swollen and gross. How could this be happening? Why wasn't I thin yet?

I force myself to meet Morgan's concerned eyes. "Wow Morgan. You really know how to make a girl feel good."

Emily steps forward. "No seriously, JJ. You don't look good. Are you feeling okay? You look sick."

I shuffle my papers around. "I'm fine guys. Just tired."

"No… I am just tired. Morgan's tired. We are all tired. You're pale, kind of shaky… Do you need to take a day? I'm sure Hotch would be okay with you heading home." Emily sits on the edge of my desk.

I clear my throat. "I'm okay. It's just been-" I stand up from my desk and feel a wave of dizziness. The world swims in front of me and I put my palms down on the desk, trying to steady myself. Instantly I can feel both of my colleagues beside me, Emily's hand against my lower back. "-been a long week." I finish lamely. I squeeze my eyes shut, and take a few shaky breaths trying to steady myself.

"JJ, you are obviously not okay-" Morgan starts but I force myself to stand up straight and cut him off.

"I said I'm fine. Drop it." I gather the files and walk out of my office, making sure to not look either of them in the eyes as I go.

I lock myself in a rarely used bathroom next to a stairwell. My heart is pounding and I soak a paper towel in water, placing it on the back of my neck. My body is shaking and try to calm down but I can't. Looking into the mirror, I can see that the bags under my eyes look even darker than they did this morning. I hadn't lied to Em and Morgan. I _was_ tired. Last night I had run three miles, until the stitch in my side felt like my very soul was ripping in two. Add that to the 648 calories that I had consumed during the day, and I was _so fucking tired._ 1200 calories a day had been working for a while, but it wasn't enough. I wasn't losing enough, or fast enough. So I had restricted my food further, and began exercising more. And it was working. But at 120 pounds all I could see was how far I had to go. I smooth my hair back and straighten my clothes and head back to my office, making sure to avoid walking through the pen, past my coworkers' desks.

Once at my own desk, I immerse myself in work. As the hours pass, my stomach begins to ache with hunger. It seems as though it's been hours since my breakfast of coffee and two hard boiled eggs. No creamer now, no sugar. Just black coffee and the two eggs, 142 calories. I ignore the pain and push through it, guzzling water from my water bottle and punishing myself with images of suffering and hate. It's almost three when I receive the file for a string of murders in Seattle. Reading through the police officer's statement, I knew that we would be headed there within the hour. I drain my water bottle and print the email along with the photos before placing them in a file and heading to Hotch's office.

We are on the plane within thirty minutes of the briefing. I take care to sit apart from Emily. We bounce ideas back and forth, hypothesizing on what the unsub wants, why he's choosing these particular victims, and what his endgame is. With two hours left until we land, we fall into silence, each of us concentrating on the file in front of us.

Once in Seattle, we are set up in a conference room. Hotch sends Emily and Morgan to canvass the latest discovery site, indicating that he and Rossi will go to the M.E.'s office to see what could be discovered from the bodies of the dead women. This left Reid and I at the police station, him providing a geological profile, me cross referencing witness statements. We sit in silence at the table pouring over our respective paperwork.

"They didn't mean to upset you, y'know."

"What?"

Reid looks up from his map. "Morgan. Emily. They didn't mean to upset you this morning. They're just concerned."

"Well I appreciate their concern, but I am fine. I'm tired. It's an occupational hazard."

"It's not just them. I'm worried about you, too. You're pale, irritable, secretive. Not to mention you've recently lost weight. JJ, you can talk to me. About anything. I can keep a secret… Especially if you're in trouble."

I furrow my eyebrows at him, feeling defensive. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Jayje, I know addiction when I see it. You can talk to me."

I can't help but feel relief that Reid doesn't actually know. "Spence, I am not an addict."

"I beg to differ."

"I am not addicted to anything. I'm not using drugs, I'm not drinking alcohol, I haven't even had a single glass of wine in weeks, maybe even months. I am fine."

"Okay so it's not addiction. But you're not fine. I can see it. We all can."

I can feel anger and panic begin to course through my bloodstream. "Oh, you can all see it? What, do you sit around and talk about me?"

"What no, we just-"

"I am fine, Reid. I am fine, I have been fine, and I will be fine. So how about instead of you and Morgan and Emily examining my life and my problems you all focus on this case and try to figure out how to catch the son of a bitch killing women all over the city, okay?"

Spence looks back at me, mouth slightly agape with shock. I can't remember ever speaking to him like this, but I can't help it. How dare they sit around talking about me and my problems? But as angry as I am at them, I'm more angry at myself. How could I be so transparent? I need to pull myself together before everyone realizes how close I am to falling apart.

 **(Tell me what you thought! Review!)**


	8. Chapter 8

**(Ooh look at me go! Another update, and my longest chapter yet! Anywho, here's chapter 8, and PLEASE REVIEW! LET ME KNOW YOU ARE OUT THERE AND YOU LIKE THIS STORY. PLEASE. Jordon.)**

 _"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires." William Shakespeare_

We've been in Seattle for roughly 48 hours and it doesn't feel as though we are any closer to catching this guy. Every lead we unearth either falls flat or else turns up another question that we don't have an answer for. We know that we're looking for a male, white, probably late twenties to mid thirties, targeting women in their twenties of all racial backgrounds. He finds them in a variety of places- one went missing on her way home from a yoga class, a few disappeared while bar hopping, one girl, only twenty-one years old, was last seen on a security camera in a laundromat. We also know that they leave with him willingly.

I drum my fingers against the conference room table, staring at their photos tacked to the board. "They're all so beautiful. How can he possibly lure them away?" I murmur.

"What makes you say that?" I turn in my chair to face Hotch.

"Well, I mean they are. They're all very conventionally attractive. And in great shape, I mean Heather Matapang was a cheerleader at the University of Washington."

"That's true. Zoe Martinez was a life guard, Ashlyn Alexander was last seen at a yoga class… All of his targets shared the same slim physique." Morgan supplies as he flipped through the folders.

"But what did you mean by the second part?" Hotch leans forward and places his elbows on the table.

"Well… These are pretty girls. I'm sure they get hit on all the time. It's going to take a lot more than a standard pick up line to interest them. They don't need the confidence boost provided by the male attention."

Spencer pushed his glasses up his nose. "Actually, that may not be true. Women who are seen as attractive by their peers are just as likely to have low self confidence, if not more so. Some scientists actually did a study regarding women whose facial dimensions fit that of what's considered beautiful or attractive and their data suggested that these women were potentially more at risk for low self esteem and it's associated risk behaviors."

Morgan takes a drink from his coffee. "Such as?"

"Most commonly, eating disorders, depression, numerous sexual partners, and binge drinking."

"Wait, what if that's how he's getting them to come with him? Something in him is able to sense their insecurities, and he exploits it?" Rossi propositioned.

"Okay so I'm this unsub. I'm in an environment, surrounded by plenty of girls to pick from." Morgan stands and begins to pace in front of the board. "I'm looking, looking, then I see a pretty girl, sitting alone." He comes to stand next to my chair. "Why's a pretty thing like you sitting alone?" He acts out, throwing in a charming smile.

"Just waiting for a friend, thanks." I shoot back. Morgan pulls out the chair next to me.

"Y'know, I think you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. I would love to get to know you better." He even throws an arm across the back of my chair, leaning in.

"Okay no." laughs Emily. "No girl would fall for that line. That's like, guys to steer clear of 101."

"Wait guys I think he might be negging." We all turn our heads to look at Spence. "It's a technique where the guy subtly insults the girl he wants. It makes her look for validation."

Derek took his arm off the back of my chair. "Soo… instead of complimenting her, I bait her." He turns back to face me. "Man it's a shame that you're not into running. You could probably be really pretty if you worked out." Even though I know it's just a stupid exercise we're using to get inside the mind of the unsub, the smile slides from my face and my stomach tightens in shame. Morgan gives me another smile. "Actually, I happen to own a gym. You should come bye, I could give you some pointers on how to lose that muffin top."

"But these girls were tiny. That wouldn't work." Emily threw in. _Yes they were tiny, unlike me who was disgusting and huge._

"It doesn't matter how she actually looks. It only matters how she thinks she looks."

Hotch stood up from the table. "I think we're ready to give our profile."

That night I find myself in a bar in the heart of Seattle. It's nearly ten and I'm sitting alone at a table, with a glass of wine. My hair is down and curly, covering the earpiece I'm wearing.

"Do you see anyone who fits the profile, JJ?" Hotch's voice is quiet but firm. I take a sip of wine while surreptitiously glancing around the darkened room. I look down at my phone as if I'm texting.

"No one yet."

"It's a negative for the other locations as well." Emily, me, and basically every female cop on the Seattle force were sent out tonight to canvas and hopefully catch this guy. I take another sip of wine. I haven't eaten anything other than the oatmeal I had for breakfast and the banana I had found for lunch. My stomach growls and I ignore it. What's harder to ignore however is the way the wine is affecting me more quickly than normal, with nothing in my stomach to soak it up. My face feels warm and as my body calls out for food I can't stop my brain from entertaining the thought of ordering food from the bar. _This is why you can't drink. You're a stupid weak fuck up who must remain on high alert-_

"Are you waiting for someone?" I nearly jump out of my skin, not having sensed someone walk up to my table. I look up to find a man, early thirties, smiling at me pleasantly.

"Uh… no. I just figured I would stop here for a nightcap on my way home from work." I let my eyes take in his blonde hair, his brown eyes, his scruffy facial hair.

"Let me guess, accounting?"

I chuckled, making sure that my hair stayed in place over my earpiece. "No I'm in Public Relations actually."

"Would you mind if I joined you? I'm Nate, by the way."

"Well thanks Nate, but I think I'm fine alone. I'm probably about to head out." I could hear Hotch in my ear, warning me to be careful.

"Are you new to the area? I haven't seen you in here before."

"I recently moved from Pennsylvania, yeah."

"Have you found a good gym?" Now I could hear Hotch advising Morgan, who was outside the bar to prep for action.

"No… No I haven't."

"Well I'm a personal trainer, I could hook you up. Actually, I know of a great plan that would help you burn off some of that weight you're carrying in your legs." I can feel my face flush and I swallow thickly.

"Uhm… Thank you?" I offer back.

"No, no! I don't mean anything by it, it's just that I'm a professional, we can see these things. Actually, I have my card and a brochure for my program in my car, let me walk you out and I can grab them for you."

I agree and throw down some cash onto the table. I follow him outside. In the parking lot he leads me to an older model Ford Explorer where he grabs the papers from the backseat. As I go to reach for them, I see him go for my extended wrist. I quickly counter and pull back so he reaches for my top pulling me closer to him. He gets in a slap across my face before I strike out hard, catching him in the nose. Blood begins to flow and he angrily punches me in the stomach. My breath is completely knocked from my body but I still manage to land a punch across his cheekbone. He whips his head back to me but right as he begins another attack, Morgan is there, slamming him against the SUV. I place my hands on my knees, still trying to draw in a breath. I can see the lights of cop cars and ambulances as they speed onto the scene. Soon I can hear Hotch's voice as he barks for Morgan to get the unsub into the car. Then he is next to me and I force myself to straighten up, not wanting to show him how weak I am.

"JJ are you alright?"

"Yeah Hotch, I'm fine." I try to keep my voice level but it comes out as more of a gasp.

"You're getting checked over by a paramedic."

"Hotch-"

"I mean it." I can tell by his tone of voice that he won't hear otherwise, so I let him escort me to the back of an ambulance. As they take my blood pressure and gently prod my face, I have to physically keep my eyes open. I'm exhausted. They have me lie back on the stretcher and lift my shirt so that they can look at where he punched me for bruising and swelling. I hear the door open and I anxiously tug my shirt back down.

"What's the diagnosis?" Hotch asks the EMT.

"Agent Jareau's going to have some bruising to her face and stomach but other than that she should be fine. Her blood pressure is pretty low though, you may want to get that checked out." He says, not addressing me until the end.

"But she's okay to travel?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem." I thank the EMT and allow Hotch to give me a hand out of the ambulance. We get in the SUV to head back to the hotel. It's too late to fly back tonight, so we'll have another night here in Seattle. I rest my head against the window and finally let my eyes fall shut. The ache in my solar plexus does nothing to hide the hanger pangs and all at once I just want to cry.

"Are you okay, JJ?" Hotch asks from the driver seat.

"I'm fine," I lie. "It just been a long day."

 **(Please review.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**(Hey guys! Chapter 9! I'm feeling very inspired, so I banged out another chapter. This chapter features the POV of another BAU member, something we haven't had so far. Let me know what you think! Jordon)**

 _"Heroes aren't born, they' re cornered. Oh, I was cornered. And I found out that I was no hero." James Belushi_

A week passes, and then two more. The bruises on my face and stomach fade from angry purple and blue, to green and yellow, until they finally disappear. It's October and we are all gathered at Rossi's home for a Halloween party. Nothing huge, just the team gathered together to eat pasta and candy and watch old horror movies. This is how I find myself sandwiched between Emily and Hotch at the dining room table. Rossi slides a plate, heaped with noodles and creamy sauce in front of me. My breath catches in my throat.

I can't remember the last time I had pasta. I have been so strong for so long. But I know that if I take a bite of this meal I will consume it all, and ask for seconds, and then I'll be sinking my teeth into chocolate bars and twizzlers, letting the sugar saturate my bloodstream and the calories coagulate into fat under my skin. I can't do that. I can't.

This morning the scale read 105. That number should have brought me nothing but pleasure and pride, but I was terrified to find out that it was just another milestone. I have lost over twenty five pounds but when I look in the mirror all I can see is the pouch of fat on the front of my stomach. Even as my my hipbones become more angular, even as my ribs become more prominent, I still can't get rid of my stomach. My arms and legs have slimmed down, but my ass is still gigantic, covered in lard. I don't understand how I'm failing at this.

At 105 pounds, I should be beautiful. I haven't been this thin since I was in high school, maybe even junior high. But I'm not. I'm still fat. I'm still a failure. And now, my hair has started to fall out. I find strands in the shower drain, woven through my brush after I comb it. My nails constantly have a blue tint, so I've taken to wearing nail polish. I'm cold all of the time and it has nothing to do with the chilling fall weather. My skin, once tan from hours spent outside playing soccer and running for fun and spending time with those I love, is pale. I'm still not good enough.

"Jayje, how's your pasta?" Emily asks from my right.

"I uh… I need more water." I slowly stand and take a few steps to the kitchen and refill my glass. I shakily take a few sips, acutely aware of the pounding of my heart in my chest. My hands shake and I hold the glass with two hands, afraid that I will drop it. I have to figure out how to get through tonight. For breakfast I had eaten my two hard boiled eggs with black coffee and for lunch I had only had an apple. That put me at 224 calories. Somewhere in my mind, I knew that eating 224 calories was madness. If it were anyone else I could have easily pointed out that the body needed more than this just to perform basic functions like breathing and walking. But it wasn't someone else. This was me and I can't eat like everyone else. Oh my god I wish I could. I wish that I was like my teammates in the next room. They eat whatever they want without a second thought and still look great. I'm not like them. I had always known this but every day it was becoming more apparent. _You will never be as good as them._ I took another breath and walked back into the dining room where everyone was quietly talking and laughing. I stopped and leaned against the doorway, taking them in. Spencer look up and saw me standing there, his smile falling slightly.

"JJ? Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Sorry, it's just nice to see us all together." I walk back to my chair, still unsure of how to get around eating the plate of calorie heavy Italian food in front of me.

I slowly take a bite of the accompanying salad, taking care to pick from the lettuce that hadn't touched the sauce. I concentrated on eating the lettuce and spinach, cutting the leaves into pieces and taking large gulps of water between bites. Suddenly I realize that the table is silent. I look up from my plate to find everyone is looking at me.

"You still haven't tried your pasta, Jen." Rossi swirls his wine in his glass, looking at me with a blank face.

"I… uhm. I don't…" My mind has gone completely blank. _Shit say something, anything, just make everyone stop looking at you like that._ But I can't.

"Is everything okay?" Emily softly asks.

"Of course, I'm-"

"You're fine. Yeah, we know." Derek spits from across the table.

My mouth drops open in shock. " _Excuse_ me?!"

"I'm sorry but I can't bite my tongue any longer. What, you thought we weren't going to notice? Or maybe just sit silently by?"

Panic buzzes through my head and a metallic taste fills my mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"JJ something's wrong, we're worried about you." Pen responds.

"Nothing is wrong. I am fine!"

"Stop lying to us!" shouts Morgan, throwing down his napkin.

"Jayje, we're your team. You can tell us anything." Emily tries to put her hand on mine but I pull it away.

"I'm sorry, I guess I missed the memo that this was everyone gang up on JJ night. I think I'll go." Even as I hear myself I realize that I am spinning out of control. I finally understand how unsubs must feel when we corner them.

I push my chair out from the table roughly. The world spins around me and my heart pounds even harder but I ignore it. I storm into the living room, grabbing my coat from the couch.

"JJ wait!" I ignore Emily's voice and grab my purse from the entry table. A hand latches on to my elbow and I whip around to tell them to _get the fuck off of me_ but I don't get the chance. The quick movement sends me entire world into a spin and I feel my body begin to slump downwards, plunging into darkness before I hit the ground.

Emily POV

When Morgan goes to grab JJ's arm, she whips around, her teeth bared. But the ferocious look is quickly replaced with terror before her eyes roll back. She slumps to the ground, Morgan just managing to grab her before her head hits the ground.

"Jayje. JJ!" his voice is panicked as he gently lays her down. Her face is pale as paper, and her cheekbones are more prominent then I've ever seen, looking as though they could puncture through her skin. I stand there in shock, looking down at my friend as Hotch joins Morgan beside her. He feels for a pulse and jerks his head up to Rossi, standing on the other side of the living room.

"Call 911, her pulse is faint and erratic. JJ can you hear me?" He gently pats his hand against her face. After a few moments her eyes flutter open, not focusing.

"Ho… Hotch?"

"JJ an ambulance is on the way."

"No!" Her eyes finally focus and she fights to sit upright, but Morgan and Hotch gently restrain her. "No I'm okay, I'm fine."

"Jayje you fainted in Rossi's living room. You need to get checked out." Morgan's voice is gentler now. I can hear Penelope softly crying behind me.

"I promise I'm fine, I just stood up too fast. Please." She looks imploringly from Morgan to Hotch, then to me. I've never heard this kind of hysteria in her voice.

"Jayje we won't call the EMTs but you have to talk to us. Honestly. And you have to eat something." She frantically nods her head and they help her stand up. Rossi hangs up the phone and fetches JJ's glass of water. Hotch guides her to the couch and Penelope sits next to her, wrapping her in a hug. The rest of us either take a seat or lean against the fireplace, sharing nervous looks.

We had all suspected something was wrong for some time. Of course we did. But we didn't want to believe it. Not JJ. She was so alive, full of confidence and love for everyone around her. She was our rock, the glue that held us together. When she began to lose weight, we looked the other way. We had physically strenuous jobs. It happens. When she became more reserved, skipping team dinners and declining offers to grab lunch, we reasoned that we spent too much time together. Everyone was entitled to some alone time. But after awhile we couldn't ignore it. She was dropping weight so fast, her beautiful body reduced to bones and angles. She constantly had bags under her eyes and there was no color in her cheeks. She covered it up with makeup, but we could still tell. But even when we noticed her having more and more dizzy spells, becoming irritable, and rarely eating in front of us (or as it would seem, anything) we were all reluctant to say anything. What if we were wrong? But more importantly, what if we were right?

 **(Next chapter is the big confrontation. Oh boy. Please review!)**


	10. Chapter 10

**(Alright! Next chapter! The big confrontation. I hope you all enjoy, please leave a review! Jordon.)**

 _"There can be no progress without head-on confrontation." Christopher Hitchens_

Sitting on the couch, Penelope's arms wrapped around me, I frantically search for a way to get this situation under control. My hands shake as I clutch my glass of water to my chest. This entire night has spiraled into disaster. First everyone turning against me at the dinner table, then the stunt I pulled when I tried to leave. I've never fainted from hunger before and I can feel the after effects now. I'm dizzy and nauseous, and my hands and feet are numb. Rossi retrieves an afghan from a hall closet and hands it to Pen. She takes it and wraps me in it before resuming hugging me, rocking us back and forth.

I take another sip from of water before lifting my eyes to look at my coworkers. Hotch is sitting in a large leather armchair, his elbows on his knees, his folded hands covering his nose and mouth. He isn't looking at me, but rather across the room at a large wall clock. Rossi is perched on the arm of Hotch's chair. He is stroking his goatee, his eyes flickering towards me every few moments. Morgan is leaning against the wall near the fireplace. He is not looking at me, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Spence and Emily are both sitting on the fireplace hearth. Her face is pale and drawn, and she is resting one of her hands on Spence's knee. She is gazing at me, eyes full of sadness and fear. He on the other hand will not look at me. His face is in his hands, hunched forward. I can see his shoulders shaking and I realize with a pang of guilt that he is crying. I can hear Pen sniffing and wiping away tears as she holds me and all at once I hate myself. Well, to be fair I've hated myself for a long time. But in this moment I can't stomach the pain I have caused these people, my friends.

"You have to eat something." Hotch's voice is low and serious. Even with how I awful I feel, I don't want to eat. I can't.

"Something small. It doesn't have to be pasta. But something more than salad." Rossi adds.

"Do… Do you have crackers?" My voice is small and hoarse so I take another sip of water. Rossi nods and comes back with a paper napkin and a sleeve of Ritz crackers. I eye them warily. I wish they were saltines instead. They're safer. My mind spits out caloric values. 5 crackers. 79 calories. I can handle 79 calories. I select 5 perfectly round crackers from the plastic wrapping and place them on the napkin. Then I take the rest of them and twist the sleeve up tightly, placing it as far away from me as possible on the coffee table. I look up and meet Emily's eyes.

"Go ahead."

"You are all making a big deal out of nothing." I try to reassure them but I can't find any strength to put behind my words. I sigh and take a cracker. I take a bite, taking care to chew it thoroughly before swallowing. I repeat this over and over until the napkin is bare, spare for a few crumbs. I look around the room, expecting them to look somewhat less tense, if not appeased. They are not. If anything, Hotch's jaw is clenched harder. He lowers his hands and looks at me.

"Do you even realize how dangerous this is? How much you've hurt yourself?"

"Hotch, I told you, everything is getting blown out of proportion."

"Blown out of proportion?" Rossi raises an eyebrow. "You just collapsed in my foyer."

"Okay so I'm overworked. We all are. Things have been really busy and I'm probably dehydrated."

"Or you're starving yourself." Morgan still won't look in my direction.

"I just ate."

"Honey, five crackers doesn't count as eating. It's barely even snacking." Pen folds the blanket closer to my body and I realize I'm still shaking.

"I ate before I came."

"Before you came? To a dinner party where you knew there would be copious amounts of pasta?" asks Rossi skeptically.

"I didn't mean to. I had few pieces of candy and then I ended up pigging out, so I'm not hungry. If anything that's probably why I fainted. My blood sugar is off from all the sweets." The lies flow through my mouth like honey. For the most part I know they don't believe me. But I can't stop. There's a small voice in the back of my mind that cries for me to _deny, deny, deny_ so I can find may out of this confusing mess.

"JJ… stop it. Stop with the lies and the deception and the half truths. Talk to us." Emily's voice is soft and kind, but I can't give in.

"It's not a lie. I mean Hotch you were there when the EMT told me my blood pressure was low. This is probably related."

"Of course it's related, JJ!" I squeeze my eyes shut as Hotch loses his composure. He comes to his feet addresses me with his arms outstretched."You're starving yourself, and you have been for months. And what's worse is you were in the field while you were doing it! You had direct contact with an unsub and you could have been seriously hurt. What if, in your weakened state, you wouldn't have been able to hold your own against him and he had injured you or even gotten away."

Now my own anger begins to rise. "If you can remember Hotch, I was injured. But I took him down anyway." I shrug off Pen's embrace and stand up to face him. "You call this weak? This is strong! Do you think you can be weak and survive on less than 500 calories a day?" I hear a quiet, horrified gasp from behind me but I don't care. "No! You have to be strong! It takes strength to run three miles on a basically empty stomach. It takes strength to be constantly offered disgustingly fattening food and turn it down time after time. But sometimes you have to because that's what it takes to be the best." I now turn to address Morgan, my hands clutching the afghan around my shoulders. "I'm sorry but some of us can't eat whatever the fuck we want and stay in great shape. You think I don't want that? Of course I do! I wish more than anything I was like the rest of you but I'm not!" As I speak the words I feel the anger fall from my body, replaced by exhaustion and loneliness. My eyes fall on Emily, her eyes shining with unshed tears. I turn my head and see Rossi and Hotch. Their faces are both completely blank, shielding me from what's going on inside their heads. My eyes are hot and itchy with tears and I realize my head is pounding so I sit back down on the couch.

"I'm not like the rest of you. I'm not a natural at getting inside the unsub's mind. I'm not built like a warrior or tech savvy or a boy genius or naturally beautiful and intelligent. So I have to try harder." I swallow thickly, trying to stop the tears from running down my face but I fail. "I'm just trying to be my best." I finish lamely.

"JJ you are a natural with unsubs. You wouldn't be on this team if you weren't. And maybe you don't kick down doors or read 20,000 words a minute, but that's not what we need from you. We need someone who is good at speaking to families and loved ones and finding a connection to build trust. We need someone who knows how to interact with the media in the exact way necessary to lure out an unsub. We need you." Hotch speaks clearly and quietly.

"And JJ you are beautiful." Penelope whispers. "You are like a ray of sunshine to everyone who meets you. But right now you're not shining."

"She's right. I can't even begin to count the times I have wished I were more like you. I wish I had your confidence, your sense of humor, your awesome hair," Emily tried to smile but couldn't quite make it. "You never needed to change."

The room is quiet for a moment. I open my mouth a few times but find I have nothing to say. So I cry instead, the hot tears snaking their way down my cheeks, one after another, so fast I don't bother to wipe them.

"What do you weigh?" she asks.

The question scares me because I know that the answer will horrify them even though it still fails to satisfy me.

"105 pounds." I finally whisper.

The silence is deafening. Emily's mouth falls open and she stares at me in shock. Derek covers his face with his hand and Hotch sits back in his chair.

"Do you remember-" Spence clears his throat, his voice shaky with tears. "The day you told me you weren't an addict? You assured me that you were fine, that you weren't addicted to anything." He finally looked up, his tear stained eyes seeking mine. "Can't you see that this is just an addiction with a different name? No, you're not hiding empty bottles or injecting yourself with dilaudid, but you ARE an addict. An eating disorder is an addiction. A way to fill the hole and numb the pain without ever having to admit that it is there."

"JJ we can't watch you die. I won't." Morgan adds in after a moment. "You have to face this. And defeat it." I understand what they are saying. I can feel the love and affection pressing in on me. And part of me wants to give in. I am so tired of fighting this war. But then I think about what that entails: all the food that I would have to eat, the weight I would gain, seeing the number inch its way back up. And I can feel the panic pressing inside my body, trying to escape through my skin.

"No." I finally whisper. "I can't. I've worked so hard to get here and I'm almost close to being perfect. I can't give it up."

"Does this… disease really mean that much to you Jen? You can see how painful it is for us to watch you kill yourself and you won't stop?" Rossi asks. His face is lined with disappointment.

"I'm sorry I can't… I'm so sorry." And I mean it. I am sorry.

"Does it mean more to you that your job?" Hotch asks, his voice low. My entire world seems to freeze then shatter. I can see Morgan and Emily's heads whip around to look at Hotch.

"What?"

"Your job, JJ. Does this absurd quest for the unattainable mean more to you than the career you've built at the FBI, helping people and keeping our nation safe?" I stare at him. He can't. He won't. He stands and walks closer to the couch, adopting an official sort of voice."Agent Jareau, I'm placing you on temporary leave of absence, effective immediately. You will not be permitted back in the office or out in the field until I have written testament from both a medical doctor and a psychiatrist that you are healthy enough to do this job." He crouches next to me, looking up into my eyes. His voice softens. "Your job will be here when you get back. But first you have to stop this." And just like that, he left through the front door.

 **(Oh man. What do you think? Leave a review!)**


	11. Chapter 11

**(Hey guys! Here is chapter 11. This explores JJ's descent after Hotch banning her from the team and tell she receives help. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Also! I started a new story named Home, which is a Jemily fic. Feel free to check it out!**

 **As always, read and review :) Jordon.)**

 _"Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for." Dag Hammarskjold_

Day 1

I wake up to the alarm I forgot to turn off. I hit the button and roll onto my back, unable to believe that my life has spiralled to this point. After Hotch left, I had sat there in shock for what seemed like hours. Finally I had stood and also left, ignoring everyone's offer to take me home, insisting that I shouldn't be driving. When I got home I had sat at my kitchen table with my head in my hands. I expected the tears to come but my eyes remained dry.

I can't believe Hotch suspended me. My job was my life, it had been for years. It was the reason I didn't date, didn't have any real friends other than my colleagues. Thinking about their faces last night, my cheeks burn with shame. I had let everyone see my secrets. Now everyone knew what Jennifer Jareau had to do in order to be merely ordinary. Their kind remarks come to mind but I push them away. They were merely empty words. I can see that now, looking back. You don't tell someone their a disgusting, pathetic mess to their face. You tell them they are beautiful just the way they are, even when everyone knows it isn't true.

I am now faced with a empty days. Empty hours that I have to figure out how to fill. I get out of bed and use the restroom, stripping down until I'm nude. I step on the scale and wait for the dial to settle.

104.2.

I walk into my bedrrom and stand in front of my full length mirror. I peer into the mirror and take stock of myself. My eyes seem sunken on top of my prominent cheekbones, but my cheeks are still chubby like a little girl's. My arms are slim. My collarbones jut out like a beautiful porcelain necklace. My breats have flattened out. My ribs have almost become visible beneath my skin. Under them sits a a sack of fat. I remember the woman in the cafeteria, all those months ago, assuming I was pregnant. Of course she would, why wouldn't she? My hip ones perch below it. Pillows of fat lay on my thighs. My knees have ecome knobby. My calves are sculpted, all bone and muscle.

104.2 is something I never aspired for and now I know why. It's not enough. 104 isn't good enough in the same way that 105, 110, 115, and 120 were not good enough. But I feel a shiver of fear as I consider, what will be? Will I be beautiful at 100? Will I be strong at 95? At 90, will I finally reach perfection?

I take a shower, blasting myself with hot water until I stop shaking. I towell off and dress in sweats and a tee shirt. It's just as well that I don't have to go in for work because none of my dress clothes fit. Not even the pants that I have left over from when I first joined the bureau. Once pon a time I couldn't get them to button; now they fall low on my hips, threatening to fall to the ground.

I go to the kitchen and prepare myself my black coffee and hard boiled eggs. When I'm done eating them, I do the dishes. I wipe down the counters and sweep the floor. Then I set back down at the table. The day is empty and I'm all alone.

Day 5

When I open my door to find Garcia on my doorstep, I'm not surprised. In fact, I expected her sooner. She gives me a hug and comes inside, anxious to escape the evening chill. Part of me is happy to see her. She is the only real human contact I've had other than the checker at the grocery store and the people I pass as I run in the park. But I am mainly suspicious and uneasy about how she forsees us spending the evening. She is bearing many bags and she sets up shop in the living room. She pulls out bottles of wine and bags of popcorn. She produces several DVDs and tells me that I get to pick what we watch. I get two wineglasses from the cabinet and pour myself a glass of water.

"How are thing at the BAU?" I ask when she takes a second to breathe.

"Uhm… good! The same. Well not the same, because you're not there, which is stinky, but… we're holding on. How… How are you?"

"I'm fine." What used to be a great friendship with easy, witty banter has turned awkward. We gaze at each other for a moment. Then her eyes flicker down to my chest and I realize she is staring at my collarbones which are not hidden by my tee shirts scoop neck. I hurriedly pick a movie and grab a sweater from my room, pulling it over my head. Garcia pops the popcorn in my microwave and I settle in onthe couch. She comes back with a bowl and sets it on the coffee table. She pours us each a glass of red wine and hands one to me. I take it and she holds hers up in a toast.

"To you coming back to us someday." I shamefully clink mine against hers and take a small sip. The tart, dry liquid swirls in my mouth. I swallow it and give her a small smile.

5 ounces of cabernet. 122 calories. That's okay. I can do that. Today the scale had read 102.6. One glass of wine in place of my normal dinner is okay. But when she tries to offer me the bowl of popcorn, I pretend as if I'm already engrossed in the opening scenes of Pretty Woman. She takes the hint and sets it back down. We talk a little throughout the movie, commenting on the crazy fashion choices and how handsome Richard Gere is. As they begin to have sex on the piano, she tries again.

"Jayje, do you want some popcorn?" she asks hopefully. I shake my head, refusing to take my eyes from the screen.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"C'mon, just have a handful."

"I'm okay, really."

"JJ, it's really-"

"I said I don't want any." I snap. I can see the sad look cross her face from the corner of eye, but I don't apologize. We watch the rest of the movie in silence.

When the credits roll, she packs everything back into the bag other than the opened bottle of wine and the bowl of popcorn. I walk her to the front door.

Before she leaves, she wraps me in a tight hug. I return it, finding comfort in the smell of perfume and the fur collar of her jacket against my cheek. "I'm worried about you." she whispers. When I don't respond, she continues "You can beat this. But you have to try okay? Because I need you. I need you and the team needs you but we can't have you back until you start eating healthy. And I love you. And I want you back with us where you belong. We miss you."

I sigh against her. "I miss you, too." She kisses my cheek and steps out into the night. Walking inside I carry the popcorn into the kitchen. I dump it all into the trash, placing the bowl in the sink. _I'm sorry Pen. But I can't._

Day 14

When Hotch calls and asks if he can stop by, I feel the anxiety roll through my stomach. But I tell him yes, because I know it wasn't really a question. I pull my hair into a ponytail and layer another sweater over my long sleeve tee. He knocks and I let him in. His eyes sweep my apartment and I can see him analyzing everything, looking for clues.

"I thought we weren't supposed to profile each other." I remind him softly.

"We're also supposed to keep ourselves healthy and do what's best for the team." His tone is calm and measured. I follow him as he walks into the kitchen. He doesn't ask me for permission before opening the fridge. I watch as he looks at the meager groceries held within: eggs, apples, celery, a pack of string cheese, low cal butter spray. He shuts the door and begins opening my cabinets. When he finds that my pantry only holds a box of crackers and cans of soup and tuna, he shuts the cabinet door and turns to me.

"JJ." I wait, but he doesn't say anything else.

"What Hotch?" I finally ask.

"This has to stop. We need you back in the field."

"Then let me back on the team. You're the one who took me off."

He folds his arms. "I can't."

"Why?"

"You know why. JJ, this is so, so incredibly dangerous. And reckless if you ask me. I mean, I'm looking at you, but I can't recognize you. This isn't the woman who was so full of life and fight that you could barely look at her. Where is she? Where is the agent who took an oath to protect her country, and right the wronged?"

His words touch me deeply. "I… I don't know."

He watches me, but I refuse to break down in front of him again. He sighs, bringing his hands to his hips. "How much do you weigh?"

"It's not really any of your business."

"JJ."

"98.5"

He lets out another sigh, and this one seems to age him before my very eyes. He looks into my eyes and I feel ashamed for letting him down.

"I… brought the names of some the doctors that can help. They aren't affiliated with the Bureau, so no one has to know." He pulls a folder fom the briefcase sitting by my front door. He sets it gently on the table. I hug my arms around myself.

"Please JJ. Please talk to someone. You need help. And we need you. I need you back."

I stare at the folder for a moment. "I want to come back." I whisper.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hotch." He letshimself out, and I sit at the table and cry.


	12. Chapter 12

**(Chapter 12! Thank you to everyone who has stuck around this far. Just as a warning, this chapter is pretty dark. I know there will be at least two more chapters after this one, maybe three. I hope you enjoy this update, please feel free to leave me a review. Much love. Jordon.)**

 _"How frail the human heart must be - a mirrored pool of thought." Sylvia Plath_

Day 17

Emily is waiting for me outside of our favorite shoe store. As I round the corner, I take a moment to truly look at her. Her face is covered my large black sunshades and she hugs her thick wool coat close to her body. I can see the collar of her favorite tan turtleneck underneath, and I can't help but smile at her obsession with the clothing item. Many of our shopping trips had ended up in a hot debate about the merits of a top that felt like it was strangling you as you wore it. She wore jeans and beat up brown loafers. In one hand she clutched a coffee and in the other her phone, which she was scrolling through. She is leaning against the building in what could only be described as a casual yet unattainable stance. God, I've missed my best friend.

She looks up as I near her and her face brightens, than quickly falls. But then it's gone as she pushes up her glasses and pulls me in for a hug, replaced with a face that is kind and neutral.

"Jayje! Oh my god I've missed you!" She pulls back from the hug and I can tell she is consciously not allowing her eyes to sweep down my body.

"I've missed you too," I lament. "But let's go inside. It's so cold out!" We bustle out of the chilly November air into the shoe store. The air smells like leather and lavender, and it feels comforting. We troll down the aisles, examining every heel, boot, and flat that catches out eye.

"Wait Spencer got hit on by an unsub?! I didn't know anything about it!" I pouted at her latest bit of gossip.

She laughed as she picked up a pair of suede booties. "Well you know Reid, he's very private about these kind of things. And when you think about Morgan's reaction can you really blame him?" As she goes into detail at the delight with which Derek had teased Reid, I can't help but feel the tug of loneliness in my chest. I should be seeing and hearing all of this first hand. It's dumb but it reminds of a time when I was a little girl. I couldn't have been more than 7 years old, but a boy was teasing me about being a girl in the lunch line. It was picture day so I was wearing a dress with a matching bow. He wouldn't leave me alone so I had pushed him down with all the contempt my tiny little body could muster. Unfortunately, a teacher saw and I was kept in from recess. I can remember seeing all of my friends outside the window, laughing and playing games. I remember being sad, and angry that my friends had carried on in their lives without me.

"...you listening to me? JJ!" Emily's voice pulls me from my haze of memories.

"Yeah?"

She quirks an eyebrow at me. "Are you okay?"

I nod quickly and regret it. I haven't eaten anything today other than my standard coffee and hard boiled eggs, and the room goes a bit fuzzy. I try to surreptitiously place a steadying hand on the display next to me until it passes, but it is not missed by Emily. She places a hand softly on my shoulder.

"I'm not seeing anything I like in here, wanna head out?" I smile and agree, thankful that she has decided to ignore my moment of weakness.

We leave the shoe store and walk down the street, silent. We make it a few blocks before she points to a small cafe.

"I could really use some coffee."

"You just had Starbucks."

"Okay… Well I could use some more." My stomach sinks as I allow myself to be guided inside. The warm air is full of delicious, intoxicating smells. The hostess leads us to an unoccupied booth and brings us water, coffee, and menus. Emily opens hers and pretends to nonchalantly look over the options as I resolutely sit mine to the side.

"I'm hungrier than I realized! I think I'm going to get a burger… Wanna split some fries with me?" She gives me a hopeful glance.

"No." My voice is quiet but steady, and for that I am thankful. I am too tried to play this game with her today. I just wanted an afternoon with my friend, where we could pretend that everything was fine but Emily was ruining it.

"I hear they have great salads. I think the chicken Caesar won some sort of award."

"I"m not hungry." I deadpan.

She lowers the menu slowly to the tabletop. "Jayje… I thought you were trying to be better."

"Better than what?"

"Than this. This shell of a woman who used to be my friend." I am silent. "Don't you want to come back?"

I can't help but laugh at her question. "Of course I want to come back. If Hotch hadn't made this ridiculous ultimatum-"

"JJ you're going to die." It spills from her mouth in a strangled gasp. I can see tears dangerously close to falling as she leans forward an captured my hands between her own. "I am terrified that we are going to lose you forever. And then what will we do? How will this unit survive?"

I shake my head slowly back and forth, unable to break eye contact with her. "You don't need me. You'll be okay." I whisper.

"No," she pulls in a shuddering breath and one of the tears escapes down her pale cheek. "I don't think we will."

We sit in silence for almost fifteen minutes. The waitress comes back tot take our orders and Emily shoos her away. She puts down money for our largely untouched beverages and we leave the cafe. She puts an arm through mine as we walk towards where our cars are parked, and I let my head rest on her shoulder.

"How is Reid?"

She sighs heavily. "He's not talking about it. When you come up, he pretty much shuts down."

"I've tried calling a few times."

"He's worried. We all are. This is one thing his big, genius brain can't wrap around. He can't understand why someone so beautiful and wonderful could be so hell bent on destroying herself."

I untangle myself from her grasp. I have my mind made up to ignore her last comments and just say goodbye, but the weary look in her eyes stops me.

"I… I love you. I love you all. And I'm so sorry." I wrap my arms tightly around her neck and I can feel her gingerly hug me back.

"Please stop, JJ. We are so scared."

My breath has began to come in ragged gasps. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And with that I pull away and hurriedly walk to my car, not looking back even as she called my name.

Day 18

"Hello, you've reached the voice mailbox of Dr. Spencer Reid. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave your name and a short message detailing the nature of your call and I will be back in touch with you shortly. Thank you."

Day 21

Rossi looks sheepish and out of place on my doorstep. He is holding what appears to be a gift basket in his arms.

"From Penelope," he explains as he hands it over. I take it and place it on the ground by the wall, already knowing that it will end up in the dumpster. He shifts on his feet, as uncomfortable as I have ever seen him.

"May I come in?"

"It's probably best you don't. I'm not feeling well, I think I caught a bug." It's not a complete lie. I feel like shit. But we both know it's not the flu or a cold. I just don't have the energy to hear his pleas right now.

"Do you need anything? Medicine? Soup? Extra tissues?"

I give him a small smile. "No, I have everything I need. I mainly just need rest."

"We miss you at the BAU, Jen." he tells me softly. I nod, not meeting his eyes. "We need you." I thank him for the gift basket and tell him goodbye, shutting the door. I pull my thick cardigan closer to my body, shivering even though the heat is turned up. Rossi knocking at the door had woken me from my bed so I head to the bathroom to start my morning routine.

I use the bathroom, and strip myself of all my layers, shivering on the cold tile. I step on the scale and weight for it to settle.

93 pounds. 93 fucking pounds. Why wasn't this good enough? Why wasn't I good enough? I walk to the kitchen and turn on my Keurig, preparing myself for another lonely, empty day.

Day 26

I am pull on a pair of black leggings and a tank top. Over the tank I layer a tee shirt and a thick sweatshirt. I pull my hair into a ponytail and slide on the bright pink ear warmer that Garcia knit me last year for Christmas. Than I pull on my running shoes, taking care to bend and touch my toes, stretching my hamstrings.

As I pull the door shut, I can see him walking towards me. "Hi Morgan."

"Hey yourself." He's dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, a scarf bundled around his neck. He's holding his go bag, and it's clear that he has just come home from a case.

"What's up?"

"Well I had heard you were sick so I was going to come check on you, but apparently you're feeling better."

I nodded as I pumped my legs trying to get them warmed up. "Oh yeah, turns out it was just a 24 hour thing."

"Goin out for a run?"

"Yeah, I thought I might." He pulls off his sunglasses so he can look at me straight on.

"Maybe I'll come along. Get some exercise."

"You really don't need- you just got home from a case. You're tired. Go home."

"I'm okay. Here, let me change and I'll tag along. Keep you company." I begrudgingly let him into my apartment. I show him to the bathroom and wait on the couch, anxiously tapping my foot.

When he's dressed in workout gear from his bag, we head back outside. We stand on my sidewalk stretching before I slowly start jogging toward the park, him by my side. When we reach our destination I pick my favorite route and begin to push myself. Morgan of course is in wonderful shape so he keeps up just fine. For some reason this annoys more than I care to admit. I push harder and he matches. Finally, it's to the point where we are sprinting down the path by the playground. My heart thunders in my chest and suddenly I have to stop. I grab onto a nearby tree as I stagger to a standstill. Morgan slows a few moment s after me and back tracks until he's standing beside me, his hand on my back. The world is swimming in front of me. Morgan is talking but I can't make out the words. The air tastes metallic in my mouth and suddenly my stomach rolls. I heave up coffee stained bile, there not being much else to throw up. My stomach muscles cry out at the contractions and my head throbs from the pressure. I try to push Morgan away and stand up straight but then my heart lurches inside me and my chest feels like it will combust. I cry out and suddenly the world closes out like I'm falling through a tunnel.

When I open my eyes, I can see a blurry image of Derek leaning over me. I can feel the leaves beneath me. I close my eyes.

When I open my eyes, he's leaning closer, and I can barely hear him asking me to hold on, to fight, that help is on it's way. His fingers are on my wrist as he frantically tries to find my pulse. I close my eyes.

When I open my eyes, I can see Derek as well as a few others who have gathered around me. I should feel embarrassed, but at this point I don't care. I look up into the gray clouds above. I am so tired. I close my eyes.

 **(Please review.)**


	13. Chapter 13

**(Alright everyone, her is chapter 13! As you know, this story is drawing to a close. There will be one more chapter following this. I will not be writing a sequel fic to this. Unfortunately, I have a lot of experience with the inner workings of eating disorders, but I don't know much about recovery. And I don't want to write something I don't know and get it wrong. However, if you enjoy my writing, I invite you take a look at my other CM stories: Something Desired, Home, Monster, and Here for You. There's also a good chance that I'll start more fics in the future. So be sure to give me an author follow if you would like to keep in the know! Thank you for staying with me, and following this to the end. Jordon.)**

 _"Open your eyes, look within. Are you satisfied with the life you're living?" Bob Marley_

My eyes flicker open, and I recognize that I'm in a hospital room. A TV flickers in the corner, playing some sort of afternoon soap opera. Sun filters through the blinds on the window. The door opens, and Emily walks in. Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail with several strands falling to frame her face. She's looking down at the coffee in her hands and when she looks up and sees me awake, she stops short.

"JJ." she breathes out. I bring a weary hand to my face and push away some stray hair.

"E… Emily." My throat hurts and it comes out as a gravely whisper. "What happened?"

She sets her coffee on the table beside my bed then takes a seat on the edge of my bed. "Do you remember going out for a run with Morgan?" I nod. "You… you pushed too hard. The doctors, they think you developed something called mitral valve prolapse as you lost weight. It's why you've been having chest pains. It's also probably why you passed out at Rossi's."

"And that's why I fainted at the park?"

She reaches out and takes a hold of my hand. She sadly shakes her head. "No, uhm… You also developed a cariac arrythmia. It led to you going into cardiac arrest."

"I… I had a heart attack?" She nodded and brought her other hand to my cheek.

"Thankfully, the paramedics got there in time. You… you're going to be okay. But only if you… If you stop." The last three words come out in a whisper.

I take in a shaky breath. Hot tears collect in my eyes and I swallow, trying to keep them in check.

Her phone rings, and she squeezes my hand before stepping out to take the call. My rub my hands together, they're so cold they're almost numb. I pull the blankets closer. I try to find something within the room to focus on, to help push down these feelings, but the bare, stagnant space provides nothing.

The door opens but instead of Emily, it's Spence. He shuts the door behind him and stands nervously at the perimeter of the room.

"Hey Spence." I croak out.

"Hi."

"How are you holding up?"

He takes a few steps towards me, hands still deep in his pockets. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

I give him a small smile. "How long have I been out?"

"Something like six hours." I nod. "We were pretty worried."

"I'll be fine."

He resumed Emily's seat. "They're not so sure about that." We sit in a tense silence for a few moments. "Did you know that over 30 million people suffer from eating disorders? Just in the US."

I shift uncomfortably in the hard bed. "I…no. I didn't know that."

"Do you know how often someone dies from specifically anorexia?" I don't answer. "One every 62 minutes. Practically every hour. Everyday 24 people die. That's 24 families that are ripped apart, every day. We hunt serial killers, but even the most prolific ones can't do that level of damage." Tears have begun to spill from my eyes. I do nothing to stop them. "Every day… we fight to keep people from dying needless deaths. But you… you-" He is cut off as sobs overcome his frame.

I stretch out my hands and entangle my fingers with his.

"Reid. Spence."

"Why, JJ?! Why are you doing this?" The raw pain in his voice tears through me.

"Spence don't…"

"Why don't you care enough about us to stop? I mean, for the life of me, I can't figure out why you hate yourself. Ever since we started working together, I've admired everything about you. Your courage, your bravery, your beauty, your sense of humor… Your unwavering commitment to doing what was right. You are everything that is right in this world. And we love you. This team needs you. I need you. Please Jayje. Please."

I pull on his hand until he leans forward and rests his head on my lap. His tears soak my blanket and I smooth his hair down.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry." I sob. "I'm so sorry that I hurt everyone."

"You can make this right, Jayje. You can. But you have to get help. You have to eat."

"I don't know if I can." I admit in a terrified whisper.

"I do. I know you can." He lifts his head and stares into my eyes. "I have an IQ of 187. I know a lot of things. But the one thing I am most sure of, in this entire world, is that you can beat this. You are strong, so strong. I know that you can do it but you have to fight. You have to let this go."

I take a deep shuddering breath. "Part…part of me knows. And I hate this, I hate being away from you guys, I hate being a slave to this. But I'm scared."

"I'm scared too."

The door opens and Hotch comes in. I swipe my hands down my cheeks, anxious to remove the evidence of tears from my cheeks. He clears his throat.

"JJ. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." He stays silent. "I… My throat hurts. And my chest."

"Reid would you mind getting her some water?" Spencer nods, leaving the room.

Hotch takes a seat in the hard wooden chair.

"You could have died, Jen."

I nod. "I know. I know."

"I don't know where to go from here." he admits.

I take a deep breath. "I… I want to change. I want to come back."

"Are you willing to do everything that entails?"

"...yes."

"You'll gain weight, stop exercising incessantly, see a psychologist?"

I nod. "Yes. I mean it Hotch. This isn't how I want to die." I turn my head and stare out the window. "I just… I don't know how it reached this point."

"You had all of the risk factors. You're female, young, you have a a high stress job that places importance on bodily excellence. You're a perfectionist and hard working. You seek constant affirmation that you are doing the right thing and being the best that you can be. Unfortunately, in our jobs that isn't always received. You also have a need for control. While this is okay, and even somewhat healthy, we have no control over unsubs' behaviors. So you fought to gain control over any part of your life you could. And it eventually spiraled out of control. It also doesn't help that the amount of time we spend on the job makes us isolated. No family, not a lot of friends outside of coworkers… And we failed you." I bring my eyes back to look at him. "We saw that something was wrong and we stood idly by. And for that, I am so sorry, Jen."

I shake my head. "This isn't you're fault. I did this."

"But we should have stopped you." A nurse came in to check my vitals and we lapsed into silence again.

"I… I threw out the folder of contacts you gave me."

"I figured as much." He pulls another from his briefcase and lays it on the bedside table.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused." Hotch stands and rests a hand on my shoulder.

"You don't have to apologize, JJ. Just get better."


	14. Chapter 14

**(Hello beautiful readers! Here is the fourteenth and final chapter to this story. Over all this has been wonderful, if intimate and painful to write. I've used it to reignite my love for writing and I am so glad I did! So, even though this story is ending, I'm still working on several. If you feel so inclined, feel free to check out Home, a dramatic Jemily fic, Something Desired, a very smutty Jotch fic, Here For You, or Monster, both angsty Criminal Minds one shots.**

 **Also, as a sidenote, I changed my username! My new username, littleoblivion, takes inspiration from E.E Cummings poem 'Don't get Me Wrong, Oblivion. I'm currently working on this poem for class and am in love.**

 **This story has been a pleasure. Thank you for reading to the end. Please leave me a review, letting me know what you think. I love you. Jordon.)**

" _Today I choose life. Every morning when I wake up I can choose joy, happiness, negativity, pain... To feel the freedom that comes from being able to continue to make mistakes and choices - today I choose to feel life, not to deny my humanity but embrace it._ _" Kevyn Aucoin_

I stand in the parking lot of the BAU and nervously pull the handle of my bag higher up on my shoulder. It's been seven months since I last came in to work, almost six since my heart attack. As if to remind me that I was okay, that it is back to working hard, my heart gives a nervous pitter patter within my chest.

As I walk up the sidewalk, the warm late May breeze spins around me. It smells like honeysuckle and I let myself take a moment to close my eyes and truly breathe it in. I can hear the words of my therapist resounding in my head. _One foot in front of the other, one small step at a time._ I open my eyes and gaze back at the building with newfound determination. I can do this.

I begin the walk up the sidewalk to the double doors and can't help but reflect over how much things have changed, how much I have changed. Upon my release three days fter my collapse, I wasn't even allowed to walk out of the hospital on my own. Instead, I had been taken to the ground level in a wheelchair and gently deposited into Emily's waiting car. Because it went without saying that I was in no condition to drive myself. She had driven me to my house in a comfortable, unassuming silence. She had even stayed with me and chatted on my bed as I sorted through my things and packed a large suitcase. Because I couldn't stay there. I knew that if I allowed myself to stay all alone in that silent apartment, I would never conquer these demons.

Because I wanted that more than anything. Lying in that hospital bed, watching the nurses and colleagues filter in and out, I made the decision that I couldn't live this life anymore. I had to get better. Yes, so that I could go back to the job I loved and to ease the anguish I could see clearly written across my friends' faces, but mainly because I wanted more. I wanted a life that didn't revolve around calories and the number on the scales. I wanted to go out, have fun, maybe try to find love. But more than anything I wanted to be happy. After almost murdering myself in the name of beauty, I deserved a little bit of joy.

When I was done packing, I locked the door to the apartment and handed Emily the key. She would look after it while I was gone. I had enough in savings and with my paid leave that it would be waiting for me when I returned. She lugged the suitcase that I was too weak to carry to her car and drove me the few hours to the facility. We turned on the radio and sang loudly to bad pop songs to conceal how scared we were of what I was about to do.

I am certain that I couldn't have gotten through that day without Em. She stayed by my side through the entire ordeal. She brought in my bag, kept me company in the waiting room. She accompanied me during the admissions paperwork and the physical exam. Even when I stripped down to my sports bra and underwear to be weighed, and my skeletal frame with it's sharp angles and concave curves moved her to tears, she didn't leave. When it finally came time to say goodbye, she hugged me tightly and whispered encouragement in my ear. For the next three months we traded phone calls and letters, and she even came to see me on visitation day. Garcia had came to, and we had played scrabble and laughed, and when they had to leave I cried until it felt like my body would fall apart. I missed them. I missed my job and my life.

In patient treatment is the hardest thing I've ever done. There were days when I was consumed with anger at the doctors, for taking away my freedom and independence. I wept bitter tears as I slowly began to fill out, my body feeling soft and bloated. Sometimes I felt so awful and disgusting that I just wanted to give up. But then I would think about my friends, how they were waiting for me on the other side. I had to do this. I had to get better.

At the double doors I swipe my ID and pull it open. My heels click against the marble floor as I walk across the atrium to the elevators. I swipe my ID again and hit the button. As I wait for the doors to open I can't help but examine my reflection in the blurry metal doors. I don't know how much I weigh. I had weighed 91.5 pounds when I went for that fateful run with Morgan. I had been weighed continually throughout my time at the clinic, but I had never been told the results. At the 90 day mark, the staff had determined that I had made enough progress to return home and begin out patient treatment. Emily once again made the trip to retrieve me, and we had even celebrated with Starbucks. I had only been able to finish half of my nonfat latte, but the fact that I had ordered it at all spoke volumes about the effort I was making. When we arrived at my apartment, the first thing I did was retrieve the scale from my bathroom and press it into her hands.

"Please take this. Just take it, and throw it away. I just can't have it here." And she had nodded and carried it to her car without a question, never to be seen in my apartment again. So I still have no idea what I weigh. I can tell that I've gained weight obviously, but I am doing my best to focus on just living.

The doors open and I step inside. I'm so excited to see everyone. I had seen Em and Penelope several times, and Hotch when I came in to speak to him about coming back. I had presented him with letters from my treatment team within the clinic,the therapist I'm seeing now, the BAU psychologist, and my cardiologist. All stated that I was okay to resume my duties and I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face when Hotch simply shook my hand and welcomed me back on to the team.

The doors ding and I step out. I walk through the glass doors and down the hall. Hotch had gathered everyone in the conference room and I could hear their friendly banter as I approached. I took the last few steps and was met with the sight of my wonderful team. Emily is the first to see me.

"JJ!" she calls, alerting the others to my presence. I take a step in but before I have a chance to say anything, Penelope's ams are wrapped around me. I laugh as I hug her back, avoiding getting my eye poked out by the giant sea turtle clip anchored to one of her buns.

"Oh my god I missed you! But you're here!" She pulls back. "Wait are you here here? Or are you just visiting? Please tell me you are back back so that I can gaze upon your beautiful face everyday."

"Don't worry, Garcia." Hotch assures from across the room. "JJ's back." She squeals and hugs me again.

Next, I hug Emily. "It's good to have you home." she whipsers into my ear.

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming back?" asks Derek as he pulls me in, tucking my head below his chin.

"I don't know, I figured we could all use a good surprise for once." I grin back.

Rossi gives me a hug after Derek. "It's good to have you back, Jen. And just in time, now Aaron can stop giving the press conferences, a true public service!" We all laugh and Hotch pats me good naturedly on the back.

"He's not wrong. I have a lot of talents and the art of the press conference is not one of them."

Spence is sitting on the edge of the table. I approach him and hold out my hand. He takes it, then stands to give me a hug. "I've missed you." he mumbles.

"I know." I respond quietly. I turn back to the rest of the team. "I've missed you all so much, and I can't even tell you how glad I am to be back."

"And… Everything's good? Heart… Everything?" Morgan asks the question I know everyone is really wanting to know.

I take a deep breath. "Yeah. I… I'm good. There's going to be days that are better than others, and it's going to take a lot of work but…" I take another deep breath as a smile spreads across my face. "I'm okay."


End file.
